


We are the wild youth

by WanderingJane



Series: and if you're still breathing [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mild Language, Romance, pre-boot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingJane/pseuds/WanderingJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jason's got his helmet tucked under his arm, his jacket draped over a shoulder. He's singing a silly pop song (that he'd never, ever on pain of bullets and Alfred's disapproving stares admit to liking) under his breath, and his steps are so bouncy that Steph would almost,</i> almost <i>call it skipping.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the wild youth

**Author's Note:**

> For xXXbelievexXx, who asked for a continuation. Title from Daughter's "Youth." Set directly after Steph's last Batgirl issue, with some slight tweaking of the time of day.

_It's only the end if you want it to be._

Steph swipes half-heartedly at her eyes, half-blinded by the tears as she swings off the building, leaving Babs behind. She has half a mind to rip the cowl off right then and there, mid-flight, and let the cold Gotham air blow through her hair, but she's pretty sure that Babs would find out and she doesn't want a lecture. Not tonight. Not when the lightness is her chest is almost, _almost_ too much. 

Her hands grasp her grapple gun tighter, and she swings her legs higher, the way Bruce taught her when she was wide-eyed and sixteen and so, so eager to please. Some indefinable emotion bubbles in her chest, and it pulls another laugh from her. It must look weird to anyone watching her from down below - Batgirl, laughing and crying as she swings from one building to another. But tonight's her night, so screw what others think. 

She spends the next hour punching out criminals, silent, for once, but with a grin on her face. One of them manages a confused, "-the fuck?" before Steph drops him with a loose roundhouse. 

A while later, on the outskirts of her patrol sector, she stops an attempted armed robbery at a liquor store and chases a surprisingly fast guy in a ski mask around the corner and into an alley. Ski Mask, as Steph takes to calling him in her head, knocks over a bunch of trash cans to try and slow her down, but Steph leaps over them with ease. When she lands on her feet in front of the guy, he's got a gun trained on her.

"I'm warning you," he says, his voice cracking, "Back off or I'll shoot." His eyes are wide, the gun shaking in his unsteady hands as he takes a couple halting steps away from her.

A dark chuckle from somewhere above them makes Steph's shoulders tense, but she refuses to react beyond that, and focuses instead on the seriously spooked Ski Mask, who's looking around wildly, his eyes darting nervously from one side of the alley to another. 

"W-who...who's there?"

"You picked the wrong girl, pal," a familiar baritone says from the shadows.

Jason.

_Crap._

Steph resists the urge to groan, and knocks the gun out of the attacker's hand with a well-placed kick. A smooth elbow to the face throws the man to the ground. 

"What, no quips? I'm disappointed."

Steph rolls her eyes, but doesn't bother answering, just settles for pulling the attacker to his feet and shoving him none too gently against a brick wall. A pair of handcuffs falls to the ground at her feet. Wordlessly, Steph picks them up and puts them on Ski Mask. She tightens the handcuffs until Ski Mask yelps in pain, and has to resist the urge to apologize to the would-be robber. _Way to go, Steph._

"You still giving me the silent treatment? I'm hurt." 

Steph glances over her shoulder to glare at him, not surprised to find him half-hidden in the shadows and leaning casually against the wall.

"So, Batgirl -"

"Okay, first off, watching me from the shadows is majorly creepy," she says, annoyance finally making her break her vow of silence, "And second, go away, you're killing my buzz." 

"You're not old enough to drink."

"I'm drunk on life," she says with enough enthusiasm to make her old high-school drama teacher proud. She rolls her eyes when Jason sniggers at her words. "Seriously, Jason, not tonight."

Jason nods in mock understanding, and says, "Okay, then I'll just take care of him," He steps forward and takes out one of his guns, aiming it at Ski Mask with a casualness that makes Steph's hair stand on end.

It shouldn't surprise her, his willingness to kill, but it still does, even after all this time. She wants to rage at him, beat her fists against his chest, and shake his shoulders until he comes to his sense, scream at him. 

Or kiss him. There's that, too. It's gotten harder to tell the difference lately, and god, what is _wrong_ with her. The gun in his hand is the whole reason why they haven't been on speaking terms lately, and she's _still_ thinking about kissing him. _Good job, Steph._

She bats his hand away with familiar ease. "Stop," she says, making sure the gun is pointed toward the ground.

"I was joking," he says before adding, "Mostly." His helmet covers his face, but Steph can practically feel his grin. 

"Don't," she says, most of her good humor from earlier gone. It's a sore point for them, his continued insistence on killing, and it drives an uncomfortable wedge between them. She turns away from him, her eyes on the building's fire escape. She hadn't wanted to see him tonight, not when she had been in such a good mood.

A heavy hand squeezes her shoulder. "Hey, you okay?" His voice has gone uncharacteristically soft. She's known Jason years, and for all his brash humor and booming voice, it always surprises her how quiet and observant he can be. "I, uh, heard about what happened with your dad." _Of course he did._

Steph shakes her head and backs away from him, almost tripping over the fallen criminal. "I don't want to talk about it, Jason. You - I - I just want." She falls silent, her eyes trained on the dirty pavement. "Let's get out of here," she says suddenly, the snap change startling Jason enough that he flinches back. She's surprised at herself, too, but tries to hide it.

"What -"

"I don't want to fight, Jason. Not tonight. Not with you. I don't want to argue or yell or tell you that what you're doing is wrong. I just want to kick criminal butt and do some good. So put the guns away, and come with me. And after we can go grab something to eat, okay. My treat." 

Steph falls silent, and watches Jason for several long seconds, waiting for the telling sigh. It comes a second later. 

"Lead the way, blondie."

-

The sun's just coming up by the time they call it quits. Steph whole body feels like one big bruise, but she's grinning from ear to ear and her steps are light, her good mood back in full force. She glances at Jason out of the corner of her eyes, wishing she hadn't forgotten her phone at home so she could take a picture of him. Jason's got his helmet tucked under his arm, his jacket draped over a shoulder. He's singing a silly pop song (that he'd never, ever on pain of bullets and Alfred's disapproving stares admit to liking) under his breath, and his steps are so bouncy that Steph would almost, _almost_ call it skipping.

He leads her to the roof of a building that looks a lot like the one where they met over two years ago. Steph doesn't know what to make of that. 

"Wait here," he says when she's settled on the ledge. 'I'm gonna go get us some food."

"Nu-uh. I told you I was buying."

"I look a lot less conspicuous than you."

"You've got guns strapped to your thighs, Jason." _Your very, very nice, muscle-y thighs, and oh god - please tell me I didn't say that out loud._

"Details," he says with a wave of his hand, and Steph breathes a sigh of relief. _Score one for the interior monologue._ Jason grins at her and steps off the building with a jaunty salute. 

"Show off," Steph mutters but still smiles. 

She hears the sound of a grapple gun going off a few minutes later, and Jason appears on the roof, balancing paper bags in his arms. 

"Here," he says, tossing one of the bags to her.

"Thanks," she says, tearing off her gloves and opening one of the take-out containers. "Ooh, waffles."

"It is breakfast time," Jason says, his mouth already full. 

"Eww," she says, wrinkling her nose. "What would Alfred say if he were here."

"I won't tell if you won't." 

Steph laughs, and tucks into her waffles. 

They eat in silence for a while, the question burning a hole in her tongue until she can't stand it any longer and blurts out, "Why are you so happy?"

Jason freezes, the plastic fork half-way to his open mouth. "Uh - what?"

"I mean, _now_. Why are you in such a good mood right now?"

He puts the food down, and wipes his hands on his pants. Steph rolls her eyes and tosses him a clean napkin.

Jason scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. "I dunno. Bruce's back," he says, his voice going quiet in the way that Steph knows means he's feeling vulnerable. She winces, remembering how violent and angry Jason got when they thought Bruce had died. It was the only time she had ever been scared of him. 

"It's been a few months since he came back," she says, careful not to push too much.

Jason licks his lips and shrugs. "Bruce is alive. The Joker - " he cuts himself off and exhales loudly through his nose, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Joker's back in Arkham, where he belongs." The words sound forced, like someone's physically pulling them from his throat, and when she looks down, she sees Jason's hands clenching the rough fabric of his pants. She doesn't know if he actually believes what he's saying, if the urge to put the Joker in the ground will ever ease for him, but Jason's trying. She reaches out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but his next words make her freeze. "And you're alive. When I heard what'd happened, I thought - Do you remember that time with Black Mask?"

"How could I forget?" Steph says, her voice wry and tinged with bitterness. Some wounds never heal. She still carries the scars from that day. 

"Oracle called a couple days ago. It was - she hadn't talked to me in so long." Jason stops, and Steph's reminded once again how lonely he must be. "She said you were in the hospital, and I thought back to that day, waiting in Leslie's clinic, not knowing if you were gonna be okay. It was like that all over again, only worse."

Steph can't speak for a while, memories of being caught by Black Mask and his goons, of Leslie holding her hand, telling her that she was going to be alright, to just hold on. Bruce at her side, Cass's terrified face, Tim's apologies. 

It isn't cold out anymore, but Steph shivers. 

"I'm okay now," she says quietly.

"I know. Guess I shouldn't kick in Drake's teeth next time I see him." It takes her a couple seconds to shake the sound of Black Mask's laugh from her ears, and remember what he's talking about. Black Mercy. The dreams. Her dad. Doctor Mid-Nite - Tim, they all know it was Tim - telling the hospital to give her a blood transfusion. 

"He did save my life," she says with a forced laugh. "That why you're happy?"

Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. "Things are just...good right now. It's nice. Weird, but nice."

"I know what you mean," she says before adding, "My mom knows I'm Batgirl." 

Jason's eyes widen behind his domino mask. "Shit."

"I know, right?" she says. "But I think she's cool with it. Might be nice, not have having to lie to her. Babs is...amazing, everything I could ever hope for in a mentor and more. Damian's being less of a brat than usual. Things with Tim are good." Jason tenses next to her, so she adds, her voice almost smug because Jason so has a bad case of the Stephs, "We're friends. Real friends, this time. He finally figured out that I can take care of myself." 

The phantom pain of Tim kicking her in the ribs flares up until Jason snorts and pulls her back to the present. "I've been telling you that for years," he says. 

"I just feel like I'm finally where I belong." She cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth. It must be hard, she thinks, for Jason to hear that, but he surprises her by taking it in stride.

"I'm happy for you, Steph," he says, and Steph's chest warms because she knows he means it. They finish their food in silence, happy to just watch sky slowly change colors. 

She breaks the spell first. "You know, I realized something today," she says, her eyes on the sliver of horizon visible between the buildings. The purple has started to bleed into a soft orange. It makes her smile. "I don't want to keep wondering about what's going to happen tomorrow, next week, a year from now. I don't know if I'll still be Batgirl then, or how school will be or what I'll be doing. But I'm happy now. We're alive, Jason. We fight to protect one of the most dangerous cities in the world, and we're _alive_." She hears Jason's breath hitch next to her, and it makes her reach out her hand and take his. His skin is warm and calloused under hers. "Whatever happens tomorrow, we're alive now, Jason, and that's something worth celebrating."

"I'd say your optimism is nauseating, but it's annoyingly contagious," he says, and Steph is relieved to hear the smile in his voice. 

When she turns back to Jason, she's surprised to find him so close. She doesn't notice when they got that way, close enough that she can see the thin white film over his eyes and count the freckles on his nose. 

His face inches closer to hers and all that runs through her head is _ohmygod, I really hope my breath doesn't stink_. But when his lips press against hers, she stops thinking completely and freezes. 

Jason pulls away after a couple awkward seconds when she doesn't react, a dark red blush staining his cheeks. She's never seen him embarrassed and she can't help the slightly hysterical giggle that escapes her lips. She leans forward and kisses him before he can say anything, her arms winding around his neck with an ease that doesn't surprise her. Jason huffs a laugh against her lips, and deepens the kiss. 

When they pull away, he's grins at her, wide and bright and for once looking his age. 

"So," he says, his voice suddenly serious, "I need you to be completely honest with me: who's the better kisser, me or Drake." 

"Shut up, jerk," she says, laughing and shoving him lightly. He tugs her to her feet, and kisses her again, pulling her close against his body. Tomorrow, they'll have to deal with the consequences, with their warring viewpoints on guns and lethal violence, and Barbara and Tim and oh god, _Bruce_. But for now they watch the sunrise together, and for a moment, just one moment in their chaotic, messy, violent lives, they're happy.


End file.
